


Unforeseen Consequences

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Best Buds [28]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Another fastball to the gut for Blaine, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good day ends on a not so good note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unforeseen Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> August 2008 Blaine is 19 years old. Trent is 18.
> 
> This chapter is from the original posting but has been so totally rewritten, I consider it new. :-D

“Deuces wild, fellas! 

Hooking his fingers into the fence guarding the left side of the dugout, Trent checked the runners on base before taking transferring his attention to his boyfriend.

It was late Saturday evening and a group of them, along with several kids from their old high school, had gotten together to play ball. The score was tied at 2-2 and Blaine was up at plate.

“Bases juiced, Budman! Bring ‘em home!”

A brief rain shower had just passed through the area, leaving t-shirts plastered to upper torsos. It was definitely a good look on Blaine.

The crack of the bat drew his gaze away from the outline of his boyfriend’s pierced tits. He grinned victoriously as the ball sailed over the fence.

“Nailed it! Yes!”

He ran out on the field and high fived the runners as they crossed the plate. The second Blaine touched a foot to the plate they were both jumping up in the air and chest bumping each other.

“Only a pitcher, my ass.”

He offered Blaine the towel he’d soaked in the melted water accumulating in the bottom of the ice chest they hauled with them to the field. “Here, wipe your face.” As they walked back to the dugout, he slapped his boyfriend on the butt and it wasn’t until Blaine shot him THE LOOK, that he remembered he needed to keep his hands to himself for the time being.

“Sorry.”

Blaine didn’t say anything. Instead he scooped up his bat and returned to the dugout to accept the congratulations from the other players of his team.

Turning around to face the empty bases, Trent slammed a fist against his thigh. “Fuck!”

Things had been somewhat on edge at the Matthews’ house ever since Blaine had broken the news about posing for a gay magazine AND getting his ass kicked out of school. It had done some serious damage to the family, especially once the news went public. Homophobic assholes of every shape and size had come out of the woodwork, and the evidence of their disgust had more than once been spray-painted across the Matthews’ garage doors. Sean had borne the major brunt of Blaine’s ill-fated decision in the temporary loss of his job and an overnight visit to the local jail for fighting. On top of that he’d been issued a ticket for speeding when caught driving 90 mph down the interstate after receiving an anonymous threat against his daughters.

Sean got his job back but only after he threatened to sue his employer. Angel and Suzanne were transferred from public to private schools and had finally stopped bitching about leaving their friends behind once their father was faced with a second night in jail for coming to their defense.

Closing his eyes, he ripped off his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead using his forearm.

Matters had gone from bad to worse when Blaine had insisted on introducing his family to the budding novelist living amongst them. He had protested; Dan had protested, but neither of them were successful in changing his boyfriend’s mind. Blaine was thrilled to death and wanted those closest to them to share in his moment of fame.

Mrs. A, being his proud, albeit surrogate, mother, also wouldn’t take no for an answer and had read his story despite all objections. He could still to this day remember the exact second she’d finished. The silence was so overwhelming he’d sworn he could hear dust motes floating in the air. Without saying a word, Mrs. A had not only left the room but also left the house, as in drove all the way to Lafayette where her parents lived. 

He could only surmise that she’d hated the piece. Hell, if he were honest, he probably would have reacted in the same way. It’s one thing to know your husband is fucking another man and something entirely different to read about it in graphic detail.

He glanced back at the dugout and saw Blaine talking to Jason Clark, a friend of theirs that, like his boyfriend, would be joining LSU’s baseball team come this fall semester.

Blaine glanced briefly at him before following Jason to where the ice chests were piled up outside the far corner of the dugout.

Glancing back at the now deserted ball field, Trent felt tears collect in his eyes and he scrunched them shut to prevent their escape.

“God, I’m gonna miss you, Budman, when I leave.”

To say Blaine was unhappy about his decision to join the working masses was an understatement of major proportions. He was pissed, and Trent honestly couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. Their goal had always been for the two of them to attend college together. Unfortunately, money was still extremely tight for him and his dad. Rising gas prices, two mortgages, monthly insurance payments, not to mention food, utilities and such . . . every penny was accounted for. He hated not being with Blaine at LSU, but bills had to be paid, and the only way that was going to happen was if he got a full-time job.

He’d promised Blaine he would reassess the situation next year. If the financial burden on his father had lessened significantly, then yes, he’d hand in his resignation to Bueche and apply for the fall semester. He wasn’t exactly sure that would be the outcome but it had eased Blaine’s frustration, somewhat. 

“Hey.”

Callused fingers briefly brushed against his neck before a cold bottle of water took their place. He immediately forgot all about his current woes.

“Hey, yourself,” he answered his boyfriend with a slap to his bicep. Uncapping the bottle, he made short work of sucking down its cold, refreshing contents. “Gotta say I will NOT be missing this damn Louisiana heat when the team is on the road.”

Blaine didn’t say a word. His jaw tightened and his chest expanded with the deep breath he took but not one word came out of his mouth. 

Trent took a moment to check the dugout and surrounding area. Except for the two of them, everyone else had left. He gaze momentarily caught on the bright red color of Blaine’s ice cooler, a souvenir of his time with UA. From the cooler his gaze traveled down the length on the dugout’s bench and immediately a deliciously wicked idea took shape.

He turned back to his boyfriend and carefully crowded into his personal space by taking a step back and to the left before pressing against his entire right side. “How ‘bout you re-enact a couple of those poses from the photo shoot.” He dared offer a kiss to the nape of Blaine’s neck. “Everybody’s gone, and it’s almost dark. Come on, let me get a look at the, and I quote, ‘hottest gay pitcher to ever set foot on the mound of a collegiate baseball stadium.’”

His dick swelled with anticipation and he did nothing to hide the evidence of his excitement. A gasp of surprise invaded the silence when he rutted against the rock hard muscles of Blaine’s ass. Seemed someone else was equally excited.

His hand was grabbed suddenly and before he could protest the excruciatingly tight grip, he was hauled to the entrance of the dugout.

Blaine stripped off his t-shirt and threw it on top of the cooler. “Even though this picture was near the end of the article, it was actually the first pose they had me do.”

Placing his glove on the bench, Blaine took a seat beside it and spread his legs wide open. “They wanted to see some dick but I refused.” He slid a hand inside his shorts while gazing off into the distance. “I thought about us every time they started shooting pics. With this pose I thought about that night I stayed over at your house and we cooked supper for your dad.”

With his eyes zeroing in on his boyfriend’s crotch, Trent grabbed the protective fencing and hung on for dear life.

“We cooked spaghetti and meatballs, remember?” Blaine continued. “After your dad left to go hang with Kenney and the guys, you and I were left doing clean-up. I remember sitting on the kitchen counter finishing my Coke while you were putting up the food.”

Blaine shifted his hand lower, leaving no doubt as to what he was doing.

“You were tossing strands of spaghetti at me and some fell in my lap.”

Trent struggled for breath.

“You remember what I said?” his boyfriend asked.

Clearing the lust from this throat, he nodded. “Clean up on aisle three.”

His boyfriend’s hand started moving faster. 

“Yeah, clean up. You did a damn good job cleaning up that particular mess.”

“Blaine. Oh . . . fuck.” He pried his fingers free of the fence and took a step back. “Stop. Don’t . . . just stop for a minute.” Taking several deep breaths, he indicated the doorway of the dugout. “Show me the next pose.”

Blaine eased his hand out of his shorts. “Okay.”

His boyfriend’s eyes zeroed in on him as he lazily licked his fingers clean. By the time he finished oxygen was again in short supply for Trent.

Blaine moved to the opening of the dugout and gripped the sides of the doorway near the ceiling. The position showcased not only his perfectly sculpted chest and arms but also his washboard abs and narrow waist. The fact that his shorts were riding low on his hips only added to pornographic image he was presenting.

“For some reason they had a hard time lighting this pose. Of course it could have had something to do with the fact that I was only wearing a jockstrap.” Blaine twisted his hips side to side. “They were always correcting the way I was standing.”

Trent dropped to his knees and clutched his dick through his shorts. “What . . . umm . . . what memory got you through that pose?”

Shaking the hair out of his eyes, Blaine titled his head back and softly groaned. “The one of you blowing me on the steps of Nana’s pool.”

As if reliving the moment, Trent swallowed hard and swore he could taste his boyfriend’s spunk in his mouth.

“Now, of course, this particular pose was the reason I shaved my pubes.”

His gaze zoomed straight to Blaine’s crotch and the definite outline of an erection. “We’re in public. We’re in public. We’re in public,” he muttered. Relaxing his grip, his fingers encountered a damp spot on his shorts. “You’re killing me, Budman.”

Blaine ignored him. 

“The last pose, as you well know, was on the pitcher's mound.” 

His boyfriend dropped his arms and took a moment to reclaim his glove. “They really pushed for some dick exposure on that one but again I refused.”

Blaine walked out to the mound and grabbed up the ball that had been left there. “Nathan couldn’t decide on how exactly he wanted me to pose. In the midst of throwing a pitch, about to throw a pitch or catching a thrown ball.” 

Blaine smirked. “None of those poses were sexy enough according to the photographer.” He dropped to his haunches and placed the hand holding the ball between his legs, positioning it in such a manner that it didn’t block the view of his crotch. “They put me in a pair of ragged jeans that were damn tight.”

Trent nodded his head in agreement. The jeans had indeed been pretty ragged. Not only were the knees ripped out but there had also been some threadbare patches in areas that caused certain fingers to twitch with the need to test the resilience of the frayed fabric. 

“This time they actively encouraged me to fantasize about fucking my catcher.” Blaine looked up at him. “Little did they know I had, indeed, fucked the catcher on my high school team.” He flicked open the button on his shorts and pulled the zipper down about an inch or two. “For this pose I thought about that day I fucked you in the gym showers. Remember? We had just crushed Catholic High and was on our way to the championship.”

Dropping down in front of his boyfriend, Trent covered Blaine’s hand with one of his own. “Yeah, Mr. Johnson got tired of waiting for us to leave and finally gave us the keys so we could lock up.” He smirked. “I remember we managed to use up all of the hot water.” He lifted his hand and palmed his boyfriend’s erection. “I also remember you sucking what was left of my brain out of my cock the minute you finished fucking me to Heaven and back.”

Blaine stood up and hauled him to his feet. “I’m thinking a shower would be good about now. How’s the new hot water heater working out?”

Unwilling to ruin the mood, Trent shut the door on the thought of how much money his dad had had to shell out when the old hot water heater had died a sudden death. 

“Working fine, Budman. Shall we test it out?”

It took them about 20 minutes to make it to his house. 

“Where’s your dad this weekend?” Blaine asked while waiting for him to unlock the front door.

“Michigan, I think. Or is it Tennessee? I’ve got the schedule in my bedroom.” He took off down the hallway but stopped when he heard the sound of Blaine’s cellphone ringing.

“It’s Angel.” Blaine waved him off when he’d turned back in his direction. “I’ll meet you in the shower,” his boyfriend said.

He had washed his hair and was nearly finished washing his body when he realized Blaine had yet to make an appearance. Quickly rinsing off, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. After a few swipes at his hair, he tied the towel around his waist and went in search of his boyfriend. He found him in the living room staring out the windows facing the front yard.

“Budman?”

He felt his heart take a nosedive the second he caught sight of Blaine’s sexy baby blues. They were filled with tears.

He half-pushed, half-forced Blaine to take a seat on the nearby couch. “Blaine?” He yanked his boyfriend into his arms and hugged him tight. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Mom . . . she’s . . . damn it, Trent, she’s leaving. For good. Leaving me and Dad,” Blaine haltingly answered. “She and the girls are moving to Lafayette.”

“Shit.” He tightened his embrace and pressed his lips to the side of Blaine’s neck. Was it their fault the Matthews were splitting up? His revealing story, along with Blaine’s stupidity, had obviously been more than Mrs. A could handle. Add to that Sean’s adamant refusal of Dan’s offer to move out and well . . .

He let out a mental groan. No telling what manner of shit would hit the fan when he shared the news of his newest endeavor. 

Kenneth Hanks, fiction editor for ‘Instinct’ magazine, had contacted him right after his story hit the newsstands. The man had asked if he’d be interested in submitting to his publication. Knowing how strapped his dad was for money, he’d readily agreed and penned not one but three short stories. So impressed by the quality of his work, Hanks had offered him a one year contract, which, at this moment, was in the hands of Kenney Bueche’s personal lawyer. His dad had insisted on that.

Loosening his hold on Blaine, he examined his boyfriend’s face. He had yet to share his good fortune, and now considering the news just handed to him, he thought it wise to keep silent. One disaster at a time.

“What did Angel say?” he inquired. Releasing his hold entirely, he tenderly brushed back the damp strands of hair clinging to Blaine’s forehead. “Your dad is trying to talk your mom out of leaving, right?”

Keeping his gaze locked on the floor beneath his feet, Blaine shook his head. “I don’t know. For about a week now, Dad’s been living with Dan in his part of the house. I thought it was just him giving Mom some breathing room.”

Blaine raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s all my fault, you know. If I had thought things through instead of letting my damn pride get in the way, none of this shit would have happened.” He hit himself in the chest. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yes, you are, but I still love you.” He took hold of the hand intent on shattering his boyfriend’s sternum and kissed each knuckle. “Still can’t believe you did that for me, Budman.”

Blaine pulled his hand free. “Doesn’t undo the damage that’s already been done.” He hung his head. “Jesus, I can’t believe my mom is leaving. Was my posing for that centerfold that horrific?”

He watched as Blaine picked at the thinning fabric on the couch cushion.

“It’s not like we’ve kept my homosexuality a secret,” Blaine went on to explain. “I came out to everyone years ago . . . parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, most of Mom and Dad’s friends. Hell, I even dated some of their sons. What’s so different now?”

Anger soon replaced sorrow. Blaine stood and threw open his arms. “I’m gay. I posed for a gay magazine. Why is that so wrong? Is my mom suddenly ashamed of me? Ashamed that I’m like Dad and enjoy taking it up the ass?” He spun around and pinned him with a heated gaze. “Tell me, Trent. Tell me why my mom is leaving.”

Rising to his feet, he cautiously placed a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I don’t think your mom’s leaving has anything to do with you.” He silenced Blaine with a stern look. “Wait, let me explain.”

Nervously, he ran a hand through his hair before speaking again. “Now, I may be wrong, but I think this thing between your mom and dad has been brewing for quite some time. Yeah, your misguided choices may have added fuel to the fire, but I don’t think it’s the reason for them calling it quits.”

“They’re not calling it quits, you asshole,” Blaine snapped. “Angel says it’s a temporary separation. That’s all."

“Whatever.”

Moving himself out of slugging range, he continued. “If you want my honest opinion, I think it was my story about Dan and your dad doing the nasty that might be causing them to split . . . ”

Holding up his hands, he immediately he backpedaled, “Sorry. Separate. Cause them to separate.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh of frustration. “What I wrote was like a slap in the face to your mom. And yeah, I know you’ve told me in the past how cool she is with their relationship. Well, Budman, it’s obvious she ain’t as cool as she says she is. I mean, think about it. Would you be okay if it was me wanting to bring some girl, let’s say Sarah, into our relationship? I don’t know about you, but I’d be mad as hell.”

Blaine’s reaction was explosive and totally unexpected. “That son of a bitch! Dad promised me Mom understood his needs, and that if push came to shove, she would be his first choice, not Dan. God, I’m gonna kill him for lying to me.”

Trent grabbed Blaine by the arm and kept him from charging off. “Whoa there, Budman. How do you know your dad chose Dan over your mom? For all we know, your dad’s fighting tooth and nail right now to keep her at home.”

“You’re wrong,” Blaine corrected. “He’d be kicking Dan out on his ass if he was, and that’s not happening. The two of them were sitting together on the porch swing when I left this afternoon.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you,” Trent conceded. “I’m not sure what’s going on between your dad and mom, but whatever it is I’m bettin’ the two of us have, however unintentional as it may seem, contributed to it.”

Reclaiming his seat on the couch, he felt a small sense of relief when Blaine sat down beside him.

“Do you think if we apologize for being morons that they’ll stop all this nonsense and get back together?” Blaine asked.

“Nope.” He claimed Blaine’s left hand and examined the commitment band he wore. “We could apologize, but I don’t think that’s the answer.”

“How ‘bout talking?” Blaine suggested. “You talk to my dad. I’ll talk to my mom.”

Trent thought for a moment then shook his head. “Let’s say we talk to them. Are you gonna be able to handle what they tell us? What if they split up, get a divorce? What if your mom won’t take your dad back even if he does agree to end his relationship with Dan? What if your dad can’t live without Dan and can’t convince your mom he needs both of them? Can you handle that? Can you accept it?”

Blaine met his gaze square on. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. It’s always been Mom and Dad. Don’t know how I’d feel if it was Dad and Dan, and Mom with somebody else. It’d probably hurt like hell, like a fast ball to the gut.” Shaking his head, he snorted. “We’re a fucking soap opera, babe. That’s what we are, a fucking soap opera.”

Shaking his head, Trent contemplated the direction he’d planned for his upcoming series of stories. The outline for the next one had the ‘mother’ character falling in love with her oldest daughter’s soccer coach, thus throwing the family into major chaos. Wounded by his wife’s unfaithfulness, the father had turned to his male lover and, once the divorce was final, moved with him back to California. Whether the son and the son’s boyfriend followed the two men to the West Coast was the subject for a future chapter.

He frowned. Considering his boyfriend’s current situation, the entire idea would have to be scrapped or at least put on hold. No way could he write such a thing. He valued his relationship with Blaine too much to inflict additional pain upon both him and his family. One such incident was enough.

Offering another rib-crushing hug, he commiserated with his boyfriend. “You’re right, Budman. We are indeed an Emmy award winning soap opera. Who knew?”

 

To be continued . . . .

**Author's Note:**

> I never realized how many chapters of this series were such downers. Sorry about that! Unfortunately we're getting close to the actual end, as in days away, story-wise that is, and I'm not sure I can slip another new chapter in but I'll think about it. If you have any ideas, let me know. 
> 
> As always . . .
> 
> THANKS for reading and . . . [you can follow me and my eclectic tastes on Tumblr!](http://angelise7.tumblr.com/)


End file.
